


depths of the ocean where all hopes sank

by Cirkne



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Ghost Michael, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Mermaid Jeremy, Mermaid Rich, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Siren Squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:49:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cirkne/pseuds/Cirkne
Summary: “Doesn’t it feel like you’re drowning?” Rich asks, eyes focused on the far away shore.“That’s the point,” Jeremy answers.





	depths of the ocean where all hopes sank

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klaviergavout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/gifts), [The_starstruck_prince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_starstruck_prince/gifts).



The deep calls to him. Just like the first time. The waves crash into the shore and he goes, his lungs no longer knowing air. He is only water. He is seafoam. He is lonely, for the most part. Jeremy does not know the ocean the way he does, has not explored all of their shore. Jeremy refuses to admit this is who they’ll be forever, still. Rich left hope on the dark grey of the rocks. Exhaled it when the siren kissed him. He still feels it’s fingers on the back of his neck, like the dirt of bad decisions. Rich no longer waits for it to wash off.

Jeremy smells like sea salt. Rich does too, probably, but it fits Jeremy somehow. His sky blue eyes, his seaweed curls, his jewel scales. He still breathes, sometimes. His gills moving but also his lips, his chest. It is not easy to unlearn being human. It’s even harder when you refuse to let go. Jeremy refuses to let go. Jeremy- 

_keeps breathing_. Keeps letting water into his insides.

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re drowning?” Rich asks, eyes focused on the far away shore. He can almost make out the trees from here. Jeremy gurgles water before he emerges. It’s an ugly sound, makes Rich’s skin crawl but he doesn’t say so. Waits.

Jeremy, like an idiot, swallows all the water that’s still in his mouth. Licks his lips like it’s going to help any.

“That’s the point,” he answers. His gills look irritated. Rich fights the urge to touch them, falls back to swim away from Jeremy. Over the waves he asks:

“Why?” like he wasn’t there when Michael showed up, finally. Transparent. At the very edge of the sea, the waves washing through his feet, denying his existence. Rich didn’t understand then but he listened to Jeremy’s apologies turn into sobs The siren won’t call to you until you’re desperate. _The siren won’t call to you until you’re-_

“It’s only fair I hurt how he did,” and then Jeremy sinks, again, his mouth wide open. His lungs will explode one day. His lungs will explode and stitch themselves back together just to keep him alive. Before Michael came to them, he used to roam the shore. Restless, only ever at the very corner of their vision. He was dust and Jeremy thought he was losing his mind. Sometimes he still thinks he’s losing his mind, Rich can tell. Sometimes he forgets that there is no one to go back to now. Forgets that Michael is no longer human and neither are they. Screams until he tires himself out. Like back when he first showed up. The siren won’t call to you until you’re-

_begging it to_. Jeremy thinks he doesn’t deserve Michael. They talk about this, sometimes, too aware of the siren listening to say anything real but there’s context clues that Rich has learned to pick up on. Jeremy avoids the shore at night, guilt climbing up from his stomach to his teeth until he’s shaking and breaking into sobs and there’s nowhere to go. They have the ocean to themselves and yet they’ll never be alone now. If it’s not each other it’s the siren. They’re lab rats and this water maze will never be their real home. 

Rich thinks about the fire. The burns. The smoke. The ashes of the rundown, abandoned warehouse he burned down. Thinks about his voice, calling for help, small and undeserving. Thinks about the matches he shouldn’t have brought there. Thinks about how bad decisions have always been in his blood. Thinks about how he told the siren that the pain was unbearable and he wanted it to stop but it was the guilt he was running from. 

He thinks about Jeremy. About Michael’s suicide. About the lake that they had to pull a teenager’s body out of. About how angry he was all the time until he found this place and then, even angrier, for a really long time. About how Jeremy came to him, eyes panicked and lips bitten down. He dreams of it sometimes. Jeremy, his gills bleeding. Jeremy, choking on the newness of what they are. Jeremy, still human, drowning in the water. Jeremy, like from a fairy tale, mute. Jeremy, always, _desperate_ , asking him for help.

Jeremy emerges eventually, his face flushed red, he asks:

“You hear that?” because it’s harder for him to block it out. Rich blinks. Listens. The siren is calling for them, of course and Jeremy’s hands start shaking at the pull, desperate to resist and yet not strong enough to ignore it. Rich reaches out to him, Jeremy’s long fingers in his hand.

“Stay with me,” he says though he knows it’s not as easy as they want it to be. Jeremy doesn’t move but he makes a sound in the back of his throat, low and painful. There are things they can do to keep themselves grounded. Rich sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek, pain has always helped him but Jeremy is different. Jeremy is desperate to please and not made to be hurt. He is fragile and all he knows is needing others and loving them for loving him. Rich moves closer to him, lifts his hands to the back of his head. It works best when it’s Michael- Jeremy’s only connection to really being human- but he sticks to the sand now. Water’s filled with the feeling of death. They understand. They wish it wasn’t so, but they get it.

Rich kisses Jeremy, pulls him into himself and Jeremy goes, of course, like all he wants to do is follow, his hands, barely resting on Rich’s waist now, the only proof that it’s hard to stay pressed together like this. They try to forget that it’s not just them two, forever, against the wind. The siren will find them eventually, they can never stay hidden but pretending is all they have left. Rich does not miss control it’s been so long he’s forgotten what it felt like to be in charge of his own body but he was lonely for a really long time before Jeremy showed up and so he had time to get used to it.

He kisses Jeremy until the siren stops calling them and then they pull away, breathe out the fear that’s made home in their rib cages, hold onto each other until it stops being hard not to fall back into the water. Jeremy keeps his eyes closed, says:

“You’re good at that,” and Rich scoffs, pushes him away. 

“Sure am,” he answers and turns away from Jeremy to hide the smile that finds it’s way to his lips. It’s new to him, still, the way he can touch Jeremy now. He can barely remember him freshman year, too scrawny for his body. Rich would have never imagined loving him then but he wouldn’t have imagined living like this, either: waves crashing into rocks and sand the only reminder of land they have. He misses walking. Running. He misses his skin dry and tired from the sun, he misses his shitty bed, even. He doesn’t miss clothes the way Jeremy does, insecurities deep in his veins. He feels too open like this, Rich knows, every touch intimate now, no hiding behind layers. 

Jeremy asks if Michael is really there sometimes. Quiet. Vulnerable. His gaze does not settle. He is searching but he does not know for what. Jeremy learns to question his reality the same way Rich did. Except, the siren doesn’t want Michael here. He doesn’t hear it’s calling, he’s not here to be tempted or tricked. He will always be human. As much as you can be human when you’re dead. He will always be untouchable. Pure. He will always be grounding. He will always be-

He calls to them from the shore. His voice has never been loud but they hear him, still and they go before they know it’s him. It’s instinct. To them Michael is second nature and the siren, of course, wishes it wasn’t so but it is helpless against this. Against him. Against the way he loves them, like it is all he knows and the way they love him, like it’s the only thing they’re good at.

Jeremy’s faster than Rich but he’d get there first even if he wasn’t. Rich knows this in the quiet way he knows other things about them two. To Jeremy, Michael exists the same way the ocean does. He is never ending and Jeremy will never be able to resist him and Rich--

Rich follows. Learns. He watches them and waits for his turn.

They cannot touch Michael. They cannot touch Michael but Michael can touch them and they are always waiting. Hoping. They ask him to stay close, sometimes and in his eyes, Rich can see the sadness that follows him now. He knows the waves will never be his home. _Could_ never be his home. To him the water is only sorrow and maybe that’s how he sees Jeremy and Rich now, too. Stuck in something that only brought him death

“Michael,” Jeremy calls like his lips were made for one word only and Michael reaches out to him, feet in the wet sand.

“Jeremy,” Michael answers, gentle. He can only ever be gentle. He is a melody in the wind, a song. The siren sings but Michael sings too. Songs tangled in his breath, wrapping around his limbs. 

He is music and he calls to them. He is music and he is endless.

**Author's Note:**

> title from shadowplay by joy division


End file.
